


the autumn wind

by Annette_ConAsra69



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 11:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30105474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annette_ConAsra69/pseuds/Annette_ConAsra69
Summary: In which a boy considered his problems too small to matter, yet they were choking him from all the overthinking he'd done, pampering him with anxiety.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	the autumn wind

**Author's Note:**

> A reflection of my problems, and the soothing I wished I'd gotten. Albeit it's easier to write for myself then for others.

Draco felt a bit like something was choking him from the inside, slowing his breathing until he became restless. He wanted to reach out to someone, but what would he say? He'd done a minor fuck-up that caused him to have a small internal breakdown, but nothing actually enough to tell someone and have them symphatize, because it really almost didn't matter. 

He'd fallen asleep during class. It was the second time it'd happened this whole semester, and the first time he got caught. It wasn't even the whole subject, only one thirds of it, but his homeroom teacher kept asking and prodding and bothering and making him want to- 

He was just so tired. 

Draco glanced at his evening tea. He wasn't in the mood to eat, yet the familiar treat he wished would calm him down brought nothing but a feeling of sourness on his tongue. It was too late to put it back in the teacup, that'd be horrible table manners. He forced himself to down it. He wondered what went wrong, maybe he sprinkled too much sugar? 

It was almost eight (night, to him, was past nine P.M) and his parents were not home yet. They were busy. 

He had thought to talk to Pansy or Blaise about it, but they were different from him. They were perfect. They had no flaws, did no mistakes, and even if they did, they covered everything up perfectly well. And besides, the spotlight wasn't on them. He was the prince of Slytherin, no matter how much he currently loathed that title that was given to him. 

Slytherin was an elite school. Only the rich and the smart could enter, and he was both. 

He had contemplated talking to Goyle or Crabbe about it but they were different too. They saw him as, well, the prince. They thought him flawless, like they could find no fault in his doing. If he were to rant about this trivial matter to them, he'd be trying to cover up for himself instead of opening his heart (Merlin, that sounds cringe) to them. He didn't want to disappoint them. 

And that was it; he didn't want to disappoint anybody, especially his parents. Merlin knew if his nosy homeroom teacher would tell them, but if he did, Draco was certain he was done for. He had never been close to his parents (most rich kids weren't, he assumed, or he hoped) and the only string holding them consisted of hopes and expectations that he didn't dare to cross. But here he was, making a mess out of his life. Again. 

The problem was, his parents knew of his wrecked sleeping schedule. 'Course they didn' t care enough to actually do something about it, assuming it was simply out of his tenacity that he didn't sleep. He supposed it didn't cross their minds that he had problems sleeping, and asking for a therapist or any kind of psychological help would be futile as they'd just get angry at him and think he was out to ruin their family's status. 

But they were right. It was his fault. If he'd forced himself to sleep, or forced himself to stay awake during class, it would've been fine. 

The homeroom teacher had been texting him since afternoon, his replies slow as if he was intentionally dragging Draco's heart out his body. He almost wanted to just not answer, but that'd give him more problems later. His only fear now was if the school decided to contact his parents; that would truly be the end of him. Just imagining it brought him cold dread. He knew no one would soothe him in the end, as all his friends couldn't help and his parents would just end up blaming him. 

The funny thing was, it was almost comical how he was overthinking such a small problem, but that's exactly what overthinking means, is it not? Other people out there struggled with drought, hunger, traumas, severe depression, and here Draco was mulling over some sleeping in class even though teenagers his age were doing drugs and parties out there. It made him feel small, like somebody was looming over his shoulder and whispering to him words such as, "Look at you, what an elitist, rich young boy. All you know is how to think of your own problems, so egoistic, so arrogant. They don't even matter and you look like you're about to cry over them. You don't matter, kid." 

Draco abruptly stood up. 

He was so tired, but he willed his legs to move. It was late, but he couldn't bear to be inside this house any longer, just mulling over nothing that mattered. He grabbed his coat and walked outside, almost wanting to cry for the relief the evening wind brought him. It was ecstacy; temporary, fleeting. 

He walked. 

Draco couldn' t swim. He knew how to, sure, but he couldn't do it long enough to save himself if he were to say, drowning. That was one of his ways to go, in his head. To throw himself down a cliff; it just sounded so… nice. Unproblematic. Another was by meds, but he didn't know which ones were lethal and how much they'd hurt. His parents had lots of those stored in their cupboards—they were doctors. 

Shame flooded him as he was reminded of the nice, extravagant life he owned. Wanting to throw that away just for a simple mistake seemed so… lame, especially for how far he'd come. How much he'd endured. It was just falling asleep in class, for god's sake. Why couldn't he- 

Draco sighed, sitting down on a familiar bench not too far from his house. Another person was already there, he looked up when Draco let himself fall with a loud thud, obviously thinking, didn't that hurt? 

The stranger was quite handsome, somewhere around Draco's age. His raven hair fell in wild curls, rampaging and creating a nest of its own on his head. His old-fashioned glasses laid atop his nose, it didn't quite match him but he also looked like he'd rock anything just fine. He wore a black coat to hide himself from the autumn wind. 

Draco learnt that his name was Harry in their little greeting, although he was surprised he'd wanted to talk to him at all. 

Harry was in fact Draco's exact age, studying at Gryffindor which was only a few blocks away from his own school. They were rival schools and Harry said he played football for a team, but Draco wasn't interested in sports, never had been, so they moved on to merrier subjects. 

"So, what are you doing outside in a weather like this?" Harry asked. 

"I just needed some fresh air, I guess," Draco said with a shrug. "I fucked up a little, no one to talk about it with."

"You… What about your friends?" 

Draco briefly wondered what Harry thought of him as a person. Perhaps he'd even gone and assumed the blond had no friends and was a loner, but the truth was, everyone in Slytherin knew how to socialize and they did it well. 

"I don't think I can talk to any of them about this matter specifically. They've always been there for me, don't get me wrong, since we were in diapers even, but…" he trailed off. "We're still quite different, I think, them and me. We've different worries and priorities, so they won't understand why I'm worrying so much about this problem and won't sympathize. Worst scenario is they laugh at me." 

Harry hummed. Draco worried he'd spoken too much to a stranger. 

"I think that makes sense. If you've been together for long then you'd know how they react. Why don't you tell me then?" 

"But I don't even know you!" Draco protested. 

"That's the whole point," Harry said with a lopsided grin. 

Draco wanted to roll his eyes. "It's nothing big, it's kind of embarrassing really. I just did a small mistake at school but my teacher wouldn't stop texting me about it."

"Texting students? Is that appropriate?" 

"Well he's not asking to fuck me-" Draco cut himself off when he realized what he'd said. "Sorry, uh…" 

Harry laughed. He was friendly, Draco thought, with his eyes crinkling like that. "I suppose. But if it's nothing big, why are you worried about it?" 

"It's a matter of… tardiness. We're not supposed to show it where I'm from, I mean my family. I'm afraid they'll tell them and then it'll just go downhill from there." 

Draco raised his head up, looking at the sky that'd turned dark a long time ago. He exhaled a puff of breath that turned into a wisp before disappearing. 

"You're more scared of your parents than of school?" 

"Why'd anyone be scared of something as trivial as school? I don't even care about it, I just care about my grades." 

"Heh. True." a pause. "Then, you care about your parents?" 

"As much as most rich kids do, with their parents busy twenty-four seven, with barely any time to actually bond and care for each other more than what is required of them, I suppose." 

"Not all rich kids are like that." 

"Not all," Draco easily agreed. "I wish, though. Having money and affection seemed like such an unfair… Well, I can't help but think I'd have grown up with less anxiety and overthinking problems had I gained more familial affection, I suppose." 

Harry snickered. His hand loomed over Draco's before retreating. "The problem is more your environment isn't it? If you had made that mistake, at least you wouldn't be brooding over it so much like now." 

Draco nodded. He knew exactly that was the root of the problem, but he couldn't deny, "It is still my fault, in the end." 

"Everyone has their faults. It's the matter of having a strong enough foundation to support them," Harry pointed out like a wise old man. It didn't match his image, even with the old glasses. "You say it's a small mistake, and I know your school. You guys barely do anything grand, unlike our school which is filled with graffiti, smoking, and the lot. I'm assuming it's something like not passing a grade by twelve percent, or maybe falling asleep in a lesson, or eating in class? Something along those lines, surely, and most people our age wouldn't be panicking over such trivial matters. That would be our everyday life, actually."

Draco snorted. Because Harry had gotten it right. He stretched his arms because it felt so nice to have gotten it out of his system. 

If he'd fallen asleep in class every day, he'd have to say goodbye to his prince title. And probably his parents' sanity. His friends would think his sanity had flown out the window then, and he would agree. 

"I get that. I also think it's such a small problem, I think that's what partly makes it so bad. I'm panicking over something so small that it barely even matters when just about everyone else out there has problems much larger than me," Draco admitted. 

Harry let his hand rest over Draco's. This time, it stayed there. 

"Don't let other people's problems belittle your own. It's fine, no one knows your situation better than you. No one can say it doesn't matter, they have no right." 

Draco smiled a little. 

"Maybe," he said. "What are you doing out here in this weather, anyway?" 

"Honestly just needed to get away from my family. I've the opposite of yours; warm, overbearing," said Harry. "I just need to be alone sometimes." 

"Oh, am I ruining your me time?" 

"Not at all. I enjoy having you here," Harry replied. "Your presence is like the wind. I enjoy talking to you. Can we talk more?" 

"Aren't we talking now?" Draco asked back, a little cheeky. 

"I meant tomorrow and the tomorrows after, you doofus." Harry rolled his eyes with a smile. "So, can we? I have a cafe I like, since that's what people apparently like nowadays. Or we can just sit on whichever bench you want, if you prefer that." 

Draco smiled, the feeling of Harry's hand so, very warm. 

"Sure. I like whatever; cafes, benches, doesn't matter. Here, give me your phone." 

They shared numbers and talked for a bit more. A bit meant two hours in their dictionary, finally willing to leave when Harry's parents called him to return home. 

In their temporary goodbye, Draco braved himself to give him a peck on the cheek. From the way Harry's cheeks reddened even more (it already was, from the cold autumn wind) it was obvious he wasn't the only one a bit shy from it, a bit delighted. 

At home, Draco's worries surged up the surface in full force, but he was exhausted and the moment he touched his bed, he fell into a merciful, deep sleep.


End file.
